Man's Best Friend
by Higgles123
Summary: Just a little one shot about how Alfie came to acquire Cyril the dog


"Ollie, would you please tell for the love of all that is good and holy what that fuckin' noise is out there?"

"Er what noise?" Ollie frowned.

"What noise?" Alfie slammed down his pen in irritation and rubbed his temples. "Ollie, you are many things my friend- stupid, cowardly, lanky, a mummy's boy to mention just a few- but I know for a fact that you aint deaf. So therefore are you tryin' to tell me that you honestly can't hear that animal howlin' out there?"

"Oh, the puppy?"

"No, Ollie, the fuckin' peacock," Alfie eyed him drolly. "Of course I mean the fuckin' puppy."

"Well I'm not sure," Ollie shrugged. "It's been there all day."

"I'm well aware of that, thank you," Alfie rolled his eyes. "What I'm askin' is who does it belong to?"

"Well, I'm not sure about that either. All I know is that it was there this morning when I got here," Ollie said. "And some of the lads on the night shift said it was there when they arrived last night."

"Right," Alfie nodded, rubbing his beard as he thought about what to do with the little bugger. "I tell you what then, go and take it a bowl of water and a bit of food and then I suppose we'll just have to wait for its owner to come back."

"What sort of food should I take it?"

"Are you for fuckin' real?" Alfie pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. "It's a dog; find it some chopped liver or summit."

"Where shall I-"

"-I beg you not to finish that question," Alfie warned him. "Now fuck off."

….

Despite being fed and watered, the dog continued to howl and whine, only stopping whenever somebody walked past and then he would sit and wag his tail desperate for some attention and affection. By the end of the day, Alfie was ready to murder somebody, and by somebody he meant Ollie. It weren't anything personal, other than that if he tried to murder Ollie the lad wouldn't have the sense to die anyway so there would be no harm done really.

Leaving the bakery, Alfie's cane clanked on the worn stone ground as he finally set his eyes upon the creature that had haunted his mind for the past ten hours.

"Hmm, you don't half make a lotta noise for such a little thing, eh?" He stopped in front of the bullmastiff pup who was sat down eagerly waiting for Alfie to come closer. His tongue lopped out of his mouth and he panted excitedly.

Alfie noticed that the dog was tied with a fairly thin rope; perhaps not the sort someone would use if they wanted to make sure their animal couldn't escape. He wore no collar either. Alfie's narrowed eyes appraised the beige tones and noted that even though the pup was young, he was still thinner than he should have been.

Crouching down, Alfie's knees creaked and he groaned when the pup leapt up at him without any hesitation or fear and began licking at Alfie's face happily.

"Alright, that's enough of that, yeah," Alfie grimaced, although anyone who had ever been on the receiving end of one of Alfie's bad moods would know immediately that this was merely a front. "Ain't no women gonna be kissin' me after you've been slobbering all over my fuckin' face with that rank breath."

Alfie almost chuckled to himself because there weren't any women kissing him full stop. Mostly through his own choice. Women were good for a quick fuck to relieve some attention when his right hand just didn't quite cut it, but he preferred to pay them and avoid any sort of emotional attachment or intimacy. At least when he paid a woman he didn't feel bad giving her a quick 'wham, bam, thank you ma'am', and in his defence his mother had always taught him to treat women well so he made sure that they always went away satisfied with more than just the money in their hand- if you gathered his meaning.

"What are we gonna do about you, eh?" He asked the dog. "It's cold out ain't it and accordin' to that useless lump what works for me you've been here since last night?"

The dog tilted his head as though really listening to the big bear of a man that was paying him attention.

"You ain't got no tag or nothin' to tell me where you come from and I shouldn't like to be accused of stealin' someone's dog," Alfie scratched his beard. "Then again it wouldn't be the worst thing I've ever done."

Alfie was torn because he didn't want to leave the little guy- was he a little guy? Yep, a quick look at what appeared to be a rather large set of nadgers for such a young pup confirmed it- out all night, especially not when it was getting cold but what else could he do? The owner might come looking for him and wouldn't know where to find him. Nah, he was better off staying where he was. He would have the lads on the night shift feed and water the dog again and hopefully by morning the little rascal would be gone. Surely no one would be cruel enough to just tie a defenceless little creature- and a rather cute one at that- to a lamppost and leave it to wither away. But even as he scoffed at such a notion, he couldn't ignore the feeling in his chest that told him otherwise. After all, humans had no trouble being evil to other humans, so why would some struggle to treat an animal in the same way?

Walking towards the car where Ishmael waited patiently in the driver's seat, Alfie felt the dog's eyes following him the entire way.

….

The wind was howling and the rain was pouring. When he was little his mum used to tell him that the rain was because God's bath was overflowing. Well, right now his fucking swimming pool must be doing the same because the amount of rain pitter pattering onto the roof was enough to keep Alfie from getting any sleep at all.

Not that he slept much anyway. No, not since France. It was hard to sleep when you were plagued by nightmares that clutched and grasped at you so tightly that sometimes you weren't certain you would ever awaken from them, and when you did wake up you wished you hadn't. It was hard to sleep when all you wanted to do was forget but your mind wouldn't allow you to, and instead haunted you with every bad deed and misdemeanour you had ever done. But the worst nights were when he dreamt of his mother. He could feel her soft skin, especially her cheeks which were like silk against the palm of his hand. He could smell the delicate violet water she wore and he could hear her telling him how much she loved him. She was beautiful and strong just like he remembered, but she was also happy. Something she had never been in real life. Sure, she had always smiled at him and made him believe she was happy, but it wasn't until he got older and he started to hear the things that people didn't say when they spoke that he realised her happy facade was just that. It was just a front; a way to pretend that everything she had gone through in her life- being persecuted and having to leave her home; being forced to stay married to a man who showed you no respect and fucked his way from town to town, leaving bastards dotted about all over the country- hadn't affected her.

Outside the window, the sky was illuminated with silver and when a loud grumble of thunder tore through the air, Alfie sat up with a sigh. An image flashed through his head; brown eyes and a scrunched up nose. Alfie shook his head and lamented at how soft he was getting in his old age, worrying about some random dog out in the cold and rain by itself. But even as he tried to put it to the back of his mind and tell himself that by now the mutt was probably tucked up cosy and warm at home- wherever that was- and was perfectly fine, he couldn't ignore guilt pecking away at the hardened wall around his conscience.

And it was that crumbling of those once impenetrable that meant he was now yanking on his clothes and preparing to go out into the pissing down rain all to look for a dog that may or may not even be there.

The darkened streets of Camden were devoid of any decent people, but even in this foul weather, ladies of the night loitered on the corners trying to earn their living. Perhaps another time, Alfie might have paid attention to their beckoning smiles and revealing clothing, but not tonight.

The walk to the bakery was one that Alfie did with ease, but that ease soon turned into a feeling of guilt and discomfort when he saw that little creature still tied to the lamppost. This time, the dog didn't move when he approached. Instead, he lifted his sad little eyes and then dropped his head back down onto his paws in defeat.

"Right, come on then," Alfie grumbled, untying the rope from the lamppost.

The dog looked up but made no effort to stand up. With a sigh, Alfie bent down and scooped him up in his arms. The poor thing was drenched to the bone and shivering with cold. Alfie debated on taking him into the bakery but decided against it. After all, that was just a recipe for Alfie himself to step foot in there and get sucked into doing paperwork or something equally as laborious. Nah, he definitely weren't going to let that happen.

….

"This is just for tonight. So don't go thinkin' that this means you're stayin' here for good, yeah? Don't be gettin' too comfortable or nowt cos tomorrow you'll have to find somewhere else."

The dog tilted his head and looked at him with just the littlest waggle of his tail. All bundled up amongst blankets and pillows, Alfie had settled him in the kitchen pantry after getting him dried and warmed up. He would let him stay here just for the night; he wasn't a complete monster after all, but that was as far as it could go. He didn't have the time or the patience for a dog and that was the end of it.

"Right, well good night then," he cleared his throat and turned to leave.

He hadn't even made it out of the kitchen when the dog started to whine. Sighing, Alfie ran a weary hand across his face and stomped back towards the pantry.

"Listen, you can't be doin' this all night, mate," he informed the dog sternly. "Some of us need to get sleep."

A little white lie, but it weren't like the dog was going to know that, was it?

"Night, ok?"

But again he made it no further than the doorway before that pitiful whine started again.

"Fucks sakes," Alfie grumbled to himself.

He supposed if the dog was only staying for one night, it wouldn't hurt for him to stay in the bedroom with Alfie. At least he could get some peace that way. And it really was only one night.

Just one night.

….

_Four years later_

Alfie groaned as he felt something wet and warm upon his face. The slapping sound against his skin made him grimace but grin at the same time.

"Alright Cyril, I'm awake," he muttered, pushing the dog's face away for his. "Fuckin' hell mate, you stink. I'm gonna have Ollie give you a bath later otherwise you're not gettin' back in this bed tonight. Think I'm kiddin', dont you? Ha, we'll see if you think that when you're whinin' later on cos I won't let you in here."

But Alfie knew that was a lie the second the words left his mouth. It didn't matter how fat or slobbery or stinky Cyril was, he ruled the roost when it came to being in this house. Or the bakery. Or anywhere in fact.

From the very second Alfie had laid eyes upon that dog, tied to that lamppost and left to rot, he had been a goner. And as much as he pretended to hate it, the mutt had given him something he never even knew he needed or wanted.

A best friend.


End file.
